


Control and trust

by Saphirott



Series: Little Things [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Light Bondage, M/M, One Shot, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sub Sam Winchester, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphirott/pseuds/Saphirott
Summary: This is the result of a sleepless night and too much Tumblr.Lately, Sam and Dean have had some trust issues. Sam proposes an unconventional way to solve it.





	Control and trust

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone.
> 
> This is a small one shot, the result of a sleepless night, so I apologize in advance. I also apologise for possible spelling and grammar errors. English is not my mother language, I try to do my best.

Control and trust  
By: Saphirott

 

It hurt.

In his life he has experienced many types of pain, physical pain. Wounds, bruises, broken bones, gunshot wounds ... God! He has been tortured in hell. He knows all types of pain, he has suffered them and he has overcome them, but this one is different.

It hurt.

He does not know how much longer he will have to endure it. He wants this to stop, but at the same time ... He does not know how to explain it. It's liberating, it 's ... It's surrender. For his part, for part the two. It is another example of mutual trust. Of absolute confidence.

It hurts ... but that is not the end, it is only the medium. The medium that will catapult him above all those things that he have always felt were wrong with him and will lead him to the only thing he does not regret.

Feel his hands numb under the weight of his body, the thick rope that keeps them tied to his back preventing proper circulation. His body is tense and sore, tears cling behind his closed eyelids tightly, trying to hold on. A little more, just a little more. He just have to trust him. And he does it

Trust. It hurt. But there are times when pain is good, like now. Although he is aware of the unconnected babbling that comes out of his mouth. Of the laments, as if it were a wounded animal, that could possibly embarrass him in the morning .

******

Magnificent…

And also beautiful.

He can not look away from him. Neither should. He must take care of it, that is his job. It has always been his job.

He must admit that he had not felt comfortable when he proposed it. That he was afraid to take that step, that perhaps all this would bring both too many memories that they would rather bury. But there was something in his eyes, in those eyes that changed like the weather, something that stirred his interior, a need to reaffirm something that they always had but that in recent times had staggered. He understood. They always understood each other They did not need words.

“I trust you”, it's the last thing he said. There were no more words.

Until now.

Now it is not that there are. There is only one successive litany of "please" whispered to the void of that room in which only the two of them are.

“Please please please…”

He knows everything that those "please" mean. Please, touch me. Please, stop. Please, I need it. Please, I need you.

Its beautiful. Painfully beautiful.

A part inside his head, that part forged with the sole purpose of protecting him, rebels quietly against what they are doing, against the image from which his eyes drink as if it were the only source of the desert.

He rebels against that enormous body that trembles uncontrollably in front of him, against the tense muscles under the ligatures and the golden skin pearled with sweat, giving it a fevered aspect.

He silences that voice, because it does not make sense at this moment and focuses on what should be his new step, in continuing to lead his brother through this difficult step. God, he is so strong, and makes him feel so proud.

His hand slips back on him. The skin is so tense under his hand that he feels it could break. So hot that he feels guilty for adding more friction. Three, four shakes, a quick, wet and sticky sound, then it moves away. The agonized groan from his mouth fills everything, making his hair stand on end arms and neck.

-Ahhhhwwwn

His body rises on the mattress for a few seconds, all his muscles tremble, his thighs stretch and contract as his belly tightens, marking that canvas worked for years he wants to worship on an altar.

He concentrates again on his face, on his cheeks lit in red, like the tense column of his neck. In his hair curled and wet by the sweat that falls disorderly on the sides of the bandage that covers his eyes. On his lips, bright and mistreated, victims at times of teeth trying to maintain control by subjecting them.

He touches it again ... The sobs come back, like when he was a small and frightened child.

“Shhh ...”, he calms it, “you're doing very well. You're doing so well ...”

That seems to make an effect and the body slowly rests on the mattress, although it keeps trembling.

Her fingers drum in and out across his length, he feels his breath hold and he does not look away from his face when he closes his fist on it again and pulls hard.

“Ohhh God! Please! Please please…”

His voice grows smaller as he raises his trunk blindly seeking the safety of his chest, of his contact.

He lets him do it, his hand holding his back, letting him rest for a moment in the place where he has always felt safe. He feels his agitated breath, desperate, crashing against his neck.

“Please…”

He leans down and looks for his lips, his trembling lips that open grateful, happy because they deserve the warmth of the other mouth. It is a soft and tender kiss, a kiss that seeks to give some peace.

“Easy, baby”. He whispers against those lips. “Almost there. It's almost over. You do it so well. You are so good to me”

There a trembling smile in them as he guides his body back to its place.

It gives him a few seconds more, a few seconds in which his member does not stop pulsing on its own, firm, needed. Desperate. His brother unconsciously raises his hips anticipating the touch, wishing and fearing at the same time. There is something hypnotic about that.

His hand moves firmly and without hesitation. Relieves and punishes, pushes it towards the precipice and brakes it on the edge.

He has never seen him so desperate, so hot, so stark. Open and delivered, just for him, as if it were a gift. A beautiful gift. He loves him for that, nobody had ever given him that way. Nobody would. He would not want it either. Only him. He has always wanted everything from him, he has always needed to know everything about him. This is just one more step in that knowledge.

Close his eyes and try to calm himself. A selfish part of himself would like this to last forever, but he knows that it is really about to end, that he can not force it much more, that neither of them will endure.

He takes it again and the scream is heartbreaking.

“Ahhwww ... Please! I'm so close ... Please ... I do not know if I can. I dont know…”

So beautiful…

******

More friction, more heat. Running in waves at a single point of his body. It seems as if he were going to die, as if at any moment his heart could no longer bear the unbridled rhythm with which he jumps into his chest, as if his ribs were not capable of holding him. His heartbeat rumbles in his ears and he can not hear anything else.

He's so close, so close ... He needs me to let him go. He needs it.

“Just a little more. You do it very well ...”

The words come to him muffled, as if they were not even pronounced in the same room.

Sobs and sobs. His body trembles. It is remembered that he asked for this, that his brother knows him, that he must trust. His brother takes care of him. Just a little more. He can do it, he can do it for him.

The hand comes back and the lights explode behind his closed pads. He can’t ... He can’t ...

His body rises again, needing the only comfort he knows that always relieves him. His face rests again on his brother's shoulder. He is tired, he is so tired. Between agitated gasps, he inspires that familiar scent that calms him. The smell of leather, grease guns, shaving lotion cheap and so none of these things can hide, the unmistakable scent of the skin of her brother, her sweat. The scent that has wrapped its own skin for thirty-five years.

“Please ... I can’t anymore ...”, confesses, “Oh, God ... I'm so close ... So close ... Please, please, please ...”

A warm and fluffy lips pressed against his and he can only cry. They press harder, they insist, and he takes them, follows them, follows them to the end of the world. He feeds on that kiss, clings to it like a shipwrecked lifeguard while his crotch continues to be tortured with a heartbreaking efficiency.

His brother releases him and separates and frustration and need collapses in his brain leaving him speechless, leaving him without air, leaving him with nothing. He can only cry. Drain everything whit tremors and tears.

A warm hand strokes his hair. He does not see it, but he can imagine his face. His face concentrated, the depth of those green eyes centered on him. He feels it.

“My job is to take care of you. It always has been and always will be. Give you what you need ...”

“Please ...,” is able to articulate, “I need it ... I ... really, really need it. I'm so close ... So fucking close ...”

“Shhh ...”, his lips rub against his again, “I'll give it to you ...”

*****

“I will give it to you…”

He smiles at the glimmer of hope that illuminates the congested face of his brother, at the anticipation of his body, at his raised hips, praying. His own body reacts to that and is harder than he ever thought it were.

His brother trembles when his hand closes again on him, still motionless. Take his free hand to his own member and pull it hard. He wants to get with him, before him, he wants the heat of his own semen to be the signal that his brother needs to finally let go. He feels him trembling under his palm, begging for it to move, pushing against it. Finally, he gives him what he need, allows him to let himself go in that rhythmic friction.

“Let's go baby. Show me how good you are to me. Give me all that you had saved for me. Let me see…”

So hot ... So beautiful ...

As he had anticipated, he came first, thick drops painting the sweaty skin white. It was enough. A strangled moan broke the air and it was over. He felt his brother's member pulsing through his hand until it was dry, exhausted, but still incredibly hard.

His body collapses against the sheets, drained by the intensity of the moment, still trembling, but less. He need to see it, he need to know it's okay.

With trembling hands, he removes the bandage from his face, his eyes are still closed, and tears still trickle down his temples. He can’t deny that he is a little scared.

“Hey ...”, he calls him, “all right? we are fine?”

His eyes open little by little. Dazed, cloudy. They take a moment to focus and then they look at him. He staggers a little at the immensity of feelings he discovers in them. Faced with that wild and rebellious brightness that brings to his memory a boy much younger, more alive, more determined. One that he believed had been lost over the years and that brings a sincere smile to his lips.

His brother responds to the smile and nods.

“We're fine ... " His voice sounds harsh and broken, but it's enough.

“You've done very well, baby. You've been magnificent," he says proudly, kissing his lips.

The kiss lengthens, warm and lazy , until it ends. Their mouths separate, but their foreheads remain united.

“It has been good?”

"It's been more than good," he replies with a chuckle.

“Sure?”

“Are you going to activate your protective mode?”

“I always have it activated. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You have not done it. I know you're always going to take care of me. I know I can trust you.”

“Thanks”

“Why?”

“For trusting me. I trust in you too.”

“That's what this was about, was not it?” He laughs again.

“Don't think I liked doing it. We could have found another way ...”

“Do not? I never would have said ...”

“Do you make fun of your older brother?”

The silence becomes clear, and opening the eyes only serves to verify what that silence grants. His brother's pupils shine full of fun and that's good. They had not had that for a long time, a little fun, some jokes. Everything had been too intense for a while now.

“Bitch …,” exclaimed annoyed, his brother breaking into laughter, “Do you find it funny? Well, there you stay, I'm going to shower.”

He gets up and turns turning his back on the way to the bathroom, a scoundrel smile on his face.

“Hey!” He hears him scream. “Hey! Come on! Do not be like that…”

Keep walking and enter the bathroom.

“Hey!”

Close the door.

“You will be a bastard! At least let go of my hands!”

The water in the shower absorbs all the noise, the heat of it is pleasant and it loosens its muscles. The smile does not fade on his face and the laughter springs a few seconds later. Yes, maybe his brother was right, maybe it's the leap of faith that had been the best way to recover that trust in each other. The only absolutely true in their lives. What kept them.

And well ... Of course he had enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it. 
> 
> I leave you the link of the video that has awakened this idea, in case you want to see it. 
> 
> I have seen him about three times, I was very impressed with the reactions of the submissive and attentive care of his dom. There's something beautiful about that kind of trust. I hope you like it. 
> 
> http://cockslutwinchesters.tumblr.com/post/174720807841/dirtythingsthatturnmeonposts-no-lie-i-watched


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